


Dying for the Lord of the Grove

by LadyGoat



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood for the Lord of the Grove, Drabble, I got a Twitter dare, Insomnia does terrible things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGoat/pseuds/LadyGoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is this how his ridiculously long life ends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying for the Lord of the Grove

**Author's Note:**

> This all started with insomnia, pain drugs, and Twitter.

It was really more than a little perturbing, he thought, lying at the foot of an oak tree in Central Park, quietly exsanguinating. He wasn't sure what he'd fought in the dark, blurred forms with long claws that stung beyond the usual tearing of flesh. He was used to the tearing of flesh, being Captain America got him injured a _lot_ , but he was equally accustomed to his serumed-up body knitting his wounds closed with freakish speed, keeping his blood right where it belonged instead of donating it to a particularly gross soil improvement project.

It wasn't happening this time. That was worrying. It might be more than worrying, but as his blood leaked into the soil and onto the roots of the tree, he couldn't seem to muster anything more than slight concern.

Footsteps, coming closer. No, hoofbeats. What? Horses hadn't been allowed in Central Park for a long time now. A stag leaned over him, antlers branching to frame and capture the moon. How long had he lain here, his red cells exiting his body like children from the last school bus before summer vacation? The moon had barely risen earlier, a thin sliver of silver that hadn't cast enough light to help him. This moon was fat and full and high in the sky. He was pretty sure he hadn't been here trolling for vampire bats for two weeks, even he didn't contain that much blood.

He blinked, trying to clear sticky blood from his vision as his hyper-efficient heart continued to pump the rest of his blood out of him. It wasn't a stag, it was a man. A man wearing antlers on his head, and the moon was nowhere to be seen.

I'm going to die, finally, Steve thought. I'm going to die being stared at by one of the weirder homeless people who lurk here.

The man leaned down, reaching out a hand fully as massive as Steve's own to touch Steve's forehead lightly and draw a symbol there in blood. As the hand pulled away, he heard a voice like far away thunder murmur, _I do not accept your death. You will not die for the Lord of the Grove._

Finally, his wounds began to heal.


End file.
